Good Golly, Miss Molly
by darnedchild
Summary: MHAW Winter 2019 Day 4 : The Baddies. Jim can't leave without saying goodbye to Molly. (The final chapter of the "Little Miss Molly" trilogy.)


**A/N:** Because I'm an idiot, I decided to write seven fics in seven hours so I could participate in the Winter 2019 MHAW back in February, and I waited until the absolute last minute. So here you go, not beta'd because I was in a hurry at the time and now I'm just lazy.

This is part three of a series of Molliarity fics. You may want to read the first two parts before this one. ("Little Miss Molly" and "Molly Mine", both on Ao3 and FFdotNet) Or not. It's up to you.

Day Four—The Baddies

**Good Golly, Miss Molly**

"Thank you. Bless you."

It briefly crossed his mind to reach for the gun in his right pocket. The one that had been meant for Sherlock, should the Consulting Detective decide to take the coward's path and refuse to do what was necessary to end this phase of the Game.

"As long as I'm alive, you can save your friends. You've got a way out."

End the tedium, the constant search for yet another distraction to alleviate the boredom.

But he didn't.

"Well good luck with that."

Jim pulled the gun from his waistband as he opened his mouth wide. Even as he placed the barrel of the weapon against his tongue, Sherlock was recoiling. As Jim had anticipated, the other man was so desperate to distance himself from the moment that he fell for the smoke and mirrors. He missed the bullet that ricocheted off the rooftop near their feet. Missed the slight of hand that produced the pool of blood. Missed the barely perceptible rise and fall of Jim's chest.

Jim didn't even bother looking over the edge of the roof after Sherlock jumped. Either the man had fallen to his death, ending the Game; or he'd found a way to cheat death, just as Jim had.

Honestly, after their little talk, Jim almost wished Sherlock had.

Jim's moment of introspection told him that he needed a change in his life.

If Sherlock had survived, he was just the man to wipe the slate clean so Jim could have a fresh start.

If Sherlock hadn't . . . Perhaps it was time for Jim to get his hands dirty again.

And that thought reminded him of the pretty little pathologist waiting somewhere in the bowels of the hospital.

_Molly mine._

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

The morgue was quiet.

There was so much excitement outside that no one bothered to pay attention to the dark-haired man in scrubs slipping down to the lower level of the hospital.

He estimated he'd have a quarter of an hour max before someone came looking for Molly.

_They're going to be very disappointed, one way or another._

Either she'd be leaving with him, or she wouldn't be leaving at all.

She was leaning on an empty exam table, braced on her arms with her head down, when he quietly entered the room. She didn't even look up as she spoke, "Is it over?"

Jim's lips curled upward. He'd known she would have played a part in all this. Sherlock would have had to have been an idiot—which, admittedly, he was—to not use every resource at his disposal. And Molly was a very valuable resource. "Not quite, Molly mine."

She whipped around so fast her ponytail nearly smacked her in the face. "Jim?"

"I know it's only been a few days since that elevator ride, but I've missed you, luv."

Her face paled and she shuddered at the reminder. He liked to think it was a shudder of remembered passion.

Lord knew he still got a little thrill thinking about delicious noises she'd made when he'd made her come.

"What-What happened to Sherlock?" She looked scared, either for herself or for her friend.

_Good._

"He had a great fall, and now I imagine they're trying to put him back together again. Or he's been very naughty and we're going to get another chance to play." He shrugged as if he didn't care either way. "I didn't come all the way down here to talk about Mister Boring. I'm here for you."

"Me?" Molly squeaked. She actually squeaked.

There was the Morgue Mouse again. If he were the kind of man to use a word such as 'adorable' in a non-patronizing capacity he might have used it to describe the noise she'd made.

"Surely you didn't think I'd leave without saying goodbye to my best girl?" Jim crossed the room to stand within arm's reach of her.

She straightened her back and glared at him. "Fuck off."

And there was a hint of the Molly who had told him off even after she knew just how much of a Bad Man he was and exactly what he was capable of. He liked that Molly. Liked her a lot.

"You keep offering and one of these days I'm going to take you up on it, luv."

Her cheeks flushed a becoming pink and she looked away.

_Got you._

"Do you ever get bored, Molly mine?" he asked as if they were discussing the weather.

She blinked and tilted her head to look at him. "I—What?"

"I can't imagine it's very exciting here. I mean, sure it has its charms, but even cutting up a corpse must become dull when you do it day in and day out." He reached out and brushed against the back of her hand with two fingers. She jerked it out of his reach and he smirked. "They don't appreciate you, you know. Sherlock and the others, the police. They don't appreciate you, don't recognize your potential."

"I'm going to call security." Her voice was stern but she made no move toward the phone on the wall.

"I appreciate you. I know what you could do if you had the opportunity. I can give you that opportunity. I can give you so many things." He reached for her hand again, and this time she didn't pull away. "So many, many things. All you have to do is come with me. Walk out of this hospital at my side and I can offer you the world, Molly mine."

She studied his expression, looking for something. Whatever it was, she must have found it.

Molly twisted her hand so that she could press her palm against his.


End file.
